


Bloodbuzz

by rillrill



Series: Insurance [1]
Category: Veep
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hate Sex, Height Differences, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1472716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rillrill/pseuds/rillrill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set directly post-3x02.</p><p>  <i>“You know, I don’t think you did,” he says. “Because I was serious. If I see you make another TV appearance talking about the veep, I am going to–” </i></p><p>  <i>“Rip out my brain through my dick?” Jonah smirks. “Or force-feed me Mexican food again? Try it, Danny. I could really go for enchiladas right now.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodbuzz

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. But [I regret nothing.](https://24.media.tumblr.com/6df2a35ef3cb3160ff9f6805e280c815/tumblr_n43j9dRqDn1r23sdto2_r1_500.png) Look me in the eyes and tell me they aren't thisclose to making out. TELL ME.

Dan isn’t thinking when he’s banging on the door of Jonah’s apartment. It’s midafternoon, blindingly bright outside, but he hasn’t slept in 36 hours and he’s strung out from being up all night on that fucking boat and then in that fucking strategy meeting. He’s stayed up longer but he was younger at the time and under less stress, and he’s starting to feel burned-out and frayed.

Jonah isn’t answering. He pounds harder, his fist thudding against the door. The side of his hand aches.

“Open the fuck up, Jonad,” he barks. He can hear shuffling inside, and then Jonah’s opening the door, wearing pajama pants and a Seether t-shirt and rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“The fuck are you doing here,” says Jonah dully. Dan doesn’t wait for an invitation. He pushes his way inside as Jonah spins to face him. The door clicks shut as Dan waits, glowering.

“Seriously,” Jonah adds. “How the fuck do you even know where I live?”

“We shared a cab once. You were wasted. It doesn’t fucking matter –” Dan inhales sharply. “You didn’t seem to get the message this morning. I figured I’d stop by and _reiterate_ it.”

“Oh, I got the message,” says Jonah. “Message received _loud and clear_ , asshole.”

Dan paces, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You know, I don’t think you did,” he says. “Because I was serious. If I see you make another TV appearance talking about the veep, I am going to–”

“Rip out my brain through my dick?” Jonah smirks. “Or force-feed me Mexican food again? Try it, Danny. I could really go for enchiladas right now.”

He stops and raises his eyebrows. “I will call in every favor I have at the FCC, the NSA, and the fucking cable companies until your entire fucking web presence is mutilated. Do you have any dick pics out there, Jonah? Because they’re about to be on the front page of Wonkette with your full name and social security number attached. How about weird porn habits? DMs from drug dealers? DMs to underage girls? If you thought your career was ruined already, you have not seen anything.”

And Jonah – _fucking Jonah_ – just laughs. He stands there, with his arms folded across his ugly fucking t-shirt, leaning against the door, and lets peal after peal of laughter escape his mouth, until Dan is seething and he can feel the vein on the side of his neck starting to pop out. And as Jonah stops laughing to catch his breath, Dan charges across the floor and pins him against the door, in a replay of their fight that morning. But this time, there isn’t a burrito between them.

He pushes this retarded fucking half-giraffe-half-man against the door of his own apartment and suddenly, he just wants to disgust him, wants to fucking _punish_ him for being such an arrogant, useless asshole. He reaches up and grabs Jonah by the hair and lays on him the sloppiest, most disgusting kiss he’s ever had, lips smashing into teeth and tongue in a borderline violent way. He doesn’t want to turn him on. He wants to freak him out, snap him out of whatever delusional fucking daydream he’s in where people can just go around talking about things they don’t understand on daytime cable news programming. He wants to leave bruises and so it comes as a mild surprise when Jonah grabs the back of his neck and kisses back.

Dan keeps his eyes shut as he bites down hard on Jonah’s bottom lip, maybe trying to draw blood but he’s not really sure, and that’s when he realizes he’s standing on fucking tiptoe. _Tiptoe_ , like a teenage girl at prom. He’s in a day-old suit that probably should have been taken to the cleaners the last time he wore it and he's standing on tiptoe to punish this fucking fuckhead who’s just getting turned on. Which is evident from the growing bulge pressing through those pajama pants against Dan’s hip.

“Fuck you.” Dan pulls away, one hand still fisted in Jonah’s hair. “You think this is a fucking game?”

Jonah chuckles again, his voice low and lusty and slimy in an embarrassingly familiar way. “You’re the one who jumped me, Danny. You’ve been dreaming about this for weeks, haven’t you?”

“You think I’ve been writing your initials in hearts on my binders? _Mrs. Jonah Ryan_?” Dan tightens his grasp on Jonah’s hair and watches as his eyes narrow. He swears he can hear something like a groan escape Jonah’s lips. “Fuck you. Consider this payback.”

Their lips crash together again, and Dan can feel his own dick rise to attention. He’s never tried this hard to will away an erection, even counting that time Gary accidentally sloshed half a cup of iced tea down Selina's front and her blouse went see-through in the office. Jonah’s mouth is enormous and hot and wet and he can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like wrapped around him, and he is not going to do this but _actually_ , maybe it’s not such a horrible idea. Teach the son of a bitch a lesson. It’s what he came here to do. And the fact that Jonah’s practically gagging on his tongue already doesn’t seem to hurt.

He pulls away again, dragging his teeth against Jonah’s lip until the last second. Jonah lets out a little sigh and Dan’s eyes flash. “You want to say something?” he asks, and Jonah looks downward, and for the first time that day, he’s not laughing.

“Sorry, I guess,” says Jonah finally, letting go of the back of Dan’s neck to run his big fingers (and no, Dan's not staring at his hands, definitely not) through his own hair. “Sorry you got all offended –”

“That’s not a fucking apology,” Dan hisses, and Jonah lifts his hand again.

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” Jonah asks.

Dan grinds his molars and narrows his eyes as he takes quick stock of the possibilities. He could leave now, just walk out the door and pretend this never happened, but between him and the door, he has Jonah, sporting a flushed red face and what looks like a raging hard-on.

Dan’s never been good at avoiding temptation. This is the power-sex equivalent of a dessert cart to a long-term dieter.

He tightens his fist in Jonah’s hair again, and pulls the other man off the door to growl in his ear, “I want you on your fucking knees. You can apologize with that black hole mouth of yours.”

Jonah meets his eyes and nods, his expression all lusty and sweaty, and Dan grits his teeth as Jonah sinks to his knees. He has to slouch and dip his head to mouth against Dan’s trousers, and Dan widens his stance and palms his dick through his black pants. He can sense that this is a terrible idea, but seeing Jonah on his knees in front of him is making him almost painfully hard, and he shakes the thought out of his head as he unbuttons and pushes his pants and boxer briefs down his thighs.

The cool air hits the head of his dick as it springs forth and he inhales sharply. The flush on Jonah’s face has spread down to his neck, disappearing into his t-shirt. Dan cocks an eyebrow as Jonah meets his eyes again and dips his head. Then he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up Dan’s cock, his tongue wide and flat and his gaze almost pornographic. Dan’s pretty sure he just lost a game of Gay Chicken and what’s more, he’s enjoying the fuck out of it, and so he grabs Jonah by the hair again (since he seemed to like it so much the first few times, filthy motherfucker) and antes up. If he wants to play like this, fine. Dan’s not backing down.

“You better do more than lick it, motherfucker,” he hisses, and Jonah smirks and places his lips at the tip of Dan’s head. His pupils blown, Jonah opens his mouth and takes Dan in, all in one easy glide, until Dan’s flush at the back of his throat. _At least that fucking cavernous mouth is good for something_ , Dan thinks, as Jonah pulls back, then slides back down. He quickly finds a rhythm, pulling off every couple strokes with an audible pop.

“Uh-uh,” says Dan. “You think you’re just gonna play this like some slutty campaign intern?” Jonah opens his mouth to protest and Dan slides two fingers into it, marveling at how his lips close around them and how soft the inside of his filthy mouth really is. Jonah’s lips are swollen and wet and his eyes are so dark and Dan wants to blow his load all over his face and call it a lesson. But not yet. He pulls his fingers out of Jonah’s mouth and gives him a condescending little smack before guiding his dick back into those swollen, filthy lips.

This time Jonah goes to work in earnest, bobbing up and down on Dan’s cock like a hundred-dollar hooker at the RNC. His huge mouth, which Dan has mocked countless times, is making obscene wet noises and his eyes are starting to drift shut. Dan pulls at his hair and holds his head steady, then thrusts once, twice, three times into his mouth as Jonah’s eyes start to tear up from the pressure. “You fucking whore. I bet you'll get down on your knees for anyone in power,” Dan mutters, almost to himself, and Jonah takes him even further into his mouth and fucking hums – _hums_ – in assent. He’s getting off on this, Dan realizes, on his knees, slumping and flushed and desperate. Fuck the porn and the dick pics, this is all the leverage he needs.

It’s this thought of leverage, as well as the head of his cock hitting the back of Jonah’s throat several times in quick succession, that pushes him over the edge. He fists his hand in Jonah’s hair and growls, “Here’s your apology, motherfucker,” as he pulls away and finishes, sloppy and somewhat off-target, on Jonah’s chin and those swollen lips, breathing heavy and hard. He feels like he’s just run a half-marathon and immediately the regret, the _What-the-fuck-did-I-just-do_ sets in, as Jonah shifts off probably-bruised knees and slumps down to wipe off his mouth with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Jesus,” Jonah says finally, catching his breath. “What the fuck, did the veep send you here to fight for her honor? Or have you just been gay for me the whole time?”

“I’m not the one who just sucked a dick for forgiveness,” says Dan, tucking himself back in and zipping his pants hastily. “Clean yourself up. I’m leaving. And if you say a word about any of this – to anyone – I’ll see to it personally that you will never work on the Hill again.”

Jonah shakes his head as he rises to stand on wobbly, newborn-calf legs. “So you’re just gonna leave like this?” he asks, reaching down to palm his own erection through his plaid flannel pants. “Real fucking nice. You’re a real fucking gentleman.”

“I never claimed to be one,” Dan shoots back. He buckles his belt and adjusts his tie. He may look Jonah straight in the Adam’s apple, but he’s the one standing here in a suit and a flag pin and – for the meanwhile, at least – he’s still got his job. And, for now, his dignity. He rolls his eyes and grabs the doorknob as Jonah slides out of the way, chewing on his lower lip and staring across the room.

He breathes in deeply and opens the door. “Don’t be a stranger,” Jonah smirks in that tone, and Dan wants to force him back down to the floor and gag him all over again, but instead he rolls his eyes and slips through the doorframe, letting the heavy wooden door slam behind him.

He’s not sure what the fuck he just did, but he’s almost certain that it was a terrible idea.


End file.
